


Unexplored Depths

by MaroMaro



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Contemplative trash, M/M, Pining, Summer of mutual pining, Unsubtle theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-15 23:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13041555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroMaro/pseuds/MaroMaro
Summary: Victor is used to being welcomed everywhere he goes – and he has been welcomed to Hasetsu, absolutely. But Yuuri’s Hasetsu is more confined, more symbolic, and Victor isn’t there just yet.He doesn’t mind waiting. He doesn’t mind this unspoken requirement that he earn his keep in this town. Victor is no stranger to hard work.Or: Reflections on that first summer, through different bodies and forms of water.





	Unexplored Depths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



 

 

Victor isn’t a fan of rain. Even in the sticky Hasetsu summer it reminds him of cold Russian winters, grey skies and interrupted walks with Makkachin. He tries to enjoy the feeling of it washing away the sweat he has built up by walking to Minako’s ballet studio to meet with Yuuri, but finds it frustrating and unwelcome, being drenched while clothed, having forgotten his umbrella back at the inn – a naïve foreigner indeed, assuming that a clear sky would stay clear and that his dry clothes would stay dry.

 

Yuuri is still in the habit of apologising for things he has no business apologising for, as though he himself controls the skies and just happened to forget that it was an inconvenient time to allow a downpour.  Mostly, he seems to be apologising for having the gall to look upon Victor in such a state, rather than what Victor wishes he would do, which would be to laugh at him for looking so ungainly, followed by an offer to towel dry him from head to toe. This is just one of many caretaker fantasies Victor’s brain has dreamt up since embarking on this coaching journey – fantasies that he should have expected, probably, after years of stubborn self-reliance.

 

Instead of heading back to the inn for a comforting soak, Yuuri suggests they stay at the studio until the rain subsides. He leads them to a room which looks out to a yard around the side of the complex, through a huge window that spans the height of the wall. The deluge is muted somewhat by the glass and Victor allows himself to relax against the mirrored wall behind him, happy for the moment to watch as Yuuri watches the rain. Yuuri’s hair is slick with sweat and pushed away from his forehead. He does half-hearted drills on the barre, muscle memory guiding him while his attention is firmly elsewhere, seemingly unable to be in a ballet studio and just do nothing, as Victor is content to do.

 

His clothes dry gradually, and Victor allows himself this moment of peace, intermittently indulging in two forms of hypnosis: the noise of continuous rainfall, and the gentle movements of Yuuri Katsuki.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Victor could die happy if his last vision is this. Yuuri is stretched out on the sand at just the right point where the tide flows in, gently flicking his sides but never engulfing him. Absolute trust and relaxation beams off him and Victor can’t stop staring.

 

Yuuri doesn’t mind being looked at these days, Victor has noticed. While Yuuri isn’t making any real attempt – as far as Victor is aware – to channel Eros with this particular display, he seems to generally enjoy having Victor around, being Victor’s focus. He still pulls back at times, Victor notices. Victor takes a step to meet him halfway, and Yuuri mirrors the movement, before something resets and Yuuri, overwhelmed, steps back again. It’s a frustrating dance, but Victor knows the steps by now and has started to let Yuuri lead.

 

This is Yuuri leading, Victor thinks. Victor hopes. This is Yuuri remembering that Victor is in _his_ territory and that it was waiting for him to return for five years, without any thought to Victor or his existence back in St Petersburg. Victor is used to being welcomed everywhere he goes – and he has been welcomed to Hasetsu, absolutely. But Yuuri’s Hasetsu is more confined, more symbolic, and Victor isn’t there just yet.

 

He doesn’t mind waiting. He doesn’t mind this unspoken requirement that he earn his keep in this town. Victor is no stranger to hard work.

 

Makkachin, unaware of the boundaries set by humans, since none of them apply to dogs, plonks down alongside Yuuri. Water drips from curly fur onto Yuuri’s face, disrupting his meditative flow of breathing. Apparently this isn’t unwelcome, if Yuuri’s laugh – music to Victor’s ears – is any indication. Victor basks in the scene, allowing himself to take in the sounds and smells of early evening, and only barely registers Yuuri speaking to him a moment later.

 

“Come lie down with us?” he asks again, when Victor acknowledges his first attempt with a, “Huh?” before he can stop himself. If Yuuri is discouraged by this lack of eloquence, he doesn’t show it. Victor smiles and settles down alongside Makkachin. He feels fingers brush against his as they stroke the dog’s fur, and neither of them pull away.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

It has been a few months, and though it’s slow coming, Victor would say that he and Yuuri have developed quite a rapport. They spend a good portion of each day together, eat meals together, bathe together – the last being something Victor had had to talk himself out of romanticising almost immediately. It’s all in a day’s work for Yuuri, having been born and gone through the most awkward stages of development in a culture where people regularly strip down to nothing and stoically celebrate the ultimate sameness of the human form. He doesn’t make a thing of it, doesn’t see any sexual intimacy in the practice the way Victor initially found himself seeing when they first sat down together in the onsen.

 

Having freed himself of this mindset, Victor is now free to re-appropriate his need for intimacy and channel it into bath-time philosophy. Yuuri seems to enjoy this. Their native languages don’t always filter into English as cleanly as either of them would like, but without Google Translate available to them in the onsen, they both find themselves being transported back to five or six years ago where they were both navigating the world in a less technologically supported way. It allows Victor to learn about Yuuri leaving Hasetsu at 18, bright-eyed and eager but equally terrified. He loves these stories.  He loves hearing about Yuuri juggling a million things at once so that he can reiterate how impressive Yuuri was to get his degree – having done so while Victor had considered study before ultimately abandoning the thought, due to there being what he perceived as too few hours in the day.

 

Yuuri responds to these compliments by pointing out their medal differential, as though it justifies the sacrifices Victor has made over the years. In a way he’s not wrong, but the other side of the coin is that Victor envies the fullness of Yuuri’s life. He envies a lot about Yuuri, barring Yuuri’s inability to accept praise in circumstances where he hasn’t fully realised his own goals.

 

Over the months, Yuuri has taken to sitting closer and closer to Victor in the onsen of his own accord. The early days saw Victor attempting to close this gap himself, but the current arrangement is infinitely more rewarding. While Victor has felt, at times, like a man possessed when it comes to Yuuri, being cuddlier and more handsy than he had ever known himself to be, he’s not blind to context. Stretching their muscles together is one thing, but simple bathing tends to be a solo activity and Victor, a disciplined man if there ever was one, is happy to feel Yuuri’s energy and warmth through the onsen waters, relishing in the occasional contact that comes from a shuffle in position or maybe, just maybe, a hesitant offering of intimacy – skinship, Victor thinks, having recently learned the word.

 

Yuuri is resting his head on his arms, providing a pillow against the stone edging of the onsen. His neck makes a quiet cracking noise as he twists into a more comfortable position, and Yuuri reacts with a grumble. Victor can relate, knowing the feeling of one’s body being in a constant state of mild tenderness. He reaches out and rubs the back of Yuuri’s neck with his fingertips. Yuuri doesn’t open his eyes. He sighs and relaxes into the touch, and Victor wonders if he could stop if he tried, or if Yuuri has activated a magnetic pulse from under his skin.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ice is the harshest teacher, Victor muses as he allows himself a moment to rub at his hip. The grey material of his pants has darkened with dampness where it took the impact of the fall. Victor ignores the sharp and familiar mix of sensations – aching and cold – as he continues to glide over the surface of Hasetsu Ice Castle. Wherever he is in the world, the falls hurt the same.

 

He knows Yuuri is watching. Yuuri is lacing up his skates and will join Victor shortly, but his concentration, at this moment, will be split between his preparations and his teacher screwing up. Victor doesn’t have to ask to know that there is something conflicting and humanising, for Yuuri, in seeing him fall on a jump that has won him more than a handful of gold medals. Intellectually, Yuuri would know that nobody is exempt from falling. The reality is different.

 

Sometimes there are days where nothing really works. The step sequence you imagine in your head at night doesn’t have enough ice coverage. The jump you’ve landed a thousand times now feels insurmountable. When these days have happened in the past, they felt constricting and isolating. The ice was meant to be a comfort, however unforgiving it could be. The ice was all he had, and when it actively worked against him it made him feel lost. Even the better days felt like a trick, a way to keep him tied to this one thing and never leave. At home, he would read in order to sink into another world for a little while. The next day, the ice would remind him, for better or worse, why he kept coming back.

 

Lately, it has felt like less of a trap. When Victor and the ice aren’t getting along, he feels like he’s the one in charge and can make a choice – force it to work or walk away. If he walks away, he might step out into the rain, and that’s not ideal, but at least it’s warm. Clear skies mean he can float on top of gentle ocean waves with Yuuri, and enjoy the residual feeling of weightlessness when he goes to bed that night. When all else fails, the onsen provides a warm embrace, punctuated by sips of warm sake if the mood strikes.

 

Yuuri starts some compulsory figures across the other end of the rink. It’s as though he knows the ice isn’t agreeing with Victor today and that he’s treating it more carefully to begin with. Possibly there’s only room for one of them today, and Victor is happy for it to be Yuuri – today, tomorrow and maybe forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. "You" in this context refers to the lovely Eve and also everybody else who reads it.


End file.
